The last day of my birth month is just an hour old. I really should be sleeping. So many things to do. And yet here I am still awake, waiting for the afterglow of a nice love story to let go of its hold of me.
Heck, I don’t even know why I am writing this, baring the vulnerability I’m feeling at the moment.
Could it be that seeing Michael Vartan, that actor who played Michael Vaugh in Alias and who had been a celebrity crush since I saw him in Never Been Kissed, made me miss the feeling of being in love? Or maybe the whole story of Never Been Kissed, which I just finished watching a couple of minutes ago, made me wonder if I had devaluated love for giving it away too many times.
Not sure if it’s the turning 38 that made me too aware of my singleness, or if it’s because I have finally healed inside for the botched up job I did with the last relationship I had. And now I feel I’m ready to handle being with someone again.
Am I, really?
There are people who get curious about me to the point they had to know how many relationships I’ve had. I’m usually prepared with a flippant reply in those cases. But when I’m alone, I ask myself if it’s possible that I have already used up the quota pre-set for me before I even came into this earth.
Imagine you’re a baby soul about to be delivered to your mother, and the guardians of the heavens sprinkle you with everything that you are supposed to have while you are here. A dash of intelligence, a quarter pound of skills, a container of friends and a stick of romantic love.
Maybe I have used up mine, believing any semblance of love that came my way. Even the best relationship I had will not be considered right in some books. Is that best it will ever be? I can’t tell.
But I’d like to think that I have learned something from all those awful experiences. That’s why this time, no matter how ready I may feel, I will take my time, I will try to decide wisely. Who knows, there may really be someone out there. Then maybe this time, I will be loved right.
And then, if there isn’t, well at least it might be a consolation to think that this time, I have loved myself right.
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